Digital ravings of an analog girl

         Shoes and the meaning of life.

July 14, 2009

The beginners guide to sex simulation


Not me...

Not me...

Owwwww.  I hurt.  My shoulders hurt, my wrists hurt, the joints of my fingers hurt.  My sides hurt – but thank goodness, only when I breathe.  I have a wide blue bruise flourishing on the outside of my right thigh.

Was I beaten up this weekend?  Nope.  These injuries were sustained while pole dancing.  Yes, pole dancing.  The pole dancing was in aid of my friend Gillian’s impending nuptuals.  I guess dry-humping a pole is on a list of must-dos for the single girl.  Crossed off mine now.  Thank God!  Now I can get married!

Not Nearly Drunk Enough

I agreed to try pole dancing, under the inducement that it was ‘great exercise’ (see what I think of exercise here) and ‘fun’ (see what I think of fun below).  A large group of us rocked up to the studio about 6pm, not nearly drunk enough.  Only six of us then had the bottle to try out our stripper chops, including the hen, Gillian.  The other five were dressed for exercise.  I had chosen (unwisely and age-inappropriately) to dress for the pole.  So there I was in short shorts, fishnet tights and fuck-me boots.  It was not pretty.

The instuctor took her place at the front of the class.  She wasn’t exactly what I expected.  Rather portly, with the officious bossy manner of a Victorian schoolmarm – we’ll call her Miss Campbell after my high school headmistress.  “Right ladies!” she bossed “Remember to face your audience, make eye contact, try to seduce them.”  As my ‘audience’ consisted largely of middle aged ladies, I wondered whether I might not better seduce them with a box of Continental Roses and a glass of Sherry.

Miss Campbell then hooked her ample calf around her pole and swung around it a couple of times, coming to a stop in a demure crouch facing her audience.  We all followed suit, with varying levels of success, and ended up more or less crouching by our poles.  “OK, now place your hand on the inside of your knee and push your legs apart, then bring them back together quickly” Miss Campbell demonstrated, ending the manoever fluttering her eyelashes with her hand over her mouth in an ‘Ooops, I slipped’ gesture.  What bit was I exercising here I wondered?  Certainly not my good judgement or self respect.  As I said… not nearly drunk enough.

What followed was an hour of various methods of swinging around the pole interspersed with getting up off the floor with maximum fanny flashing to the audience.  We also learned how to pretend-hump the floor, ride the invisible man backward-cowboy-style (although I have a feeling some of us already knew that one), flick back our hair a-la the wet Flashdance and slap our own arses.

Everything you wanted to know but were afraid to ask

My pole dancing experience has left me with more questions than answers frankly, but here are the answers I do know, for anyone who wants to know, but is afraid to ask…: 

  • Is pole dancing good exercise?  If you measure ‘good’ by how much pain you’re in a few days after the event, then yes, it is.
  • Is it fun? Well, if you can avoid catching your reflection in the mirror, or in the eyes of your audience, then yeah, I suppose so.
  • Will I be able to use these moves to seduce my husband, boyfriend, potential boyfriend, best friend’s husband?  Well, it depends; is he a neanderthal, sexist, internet porn-watching, wanker?  Ah, who am I kidding!?  Probably…  
  • Do I need to prepare before I try it?  The ‘school’ will make you fill out an extensive form about your health and sign a waiver absolving them of any responsibility for your idiocy.  In terms of preparation… I have just one word for you.  Brazilian.
  •  But wait… Isn’t pole dancing exploitative and demeaning?  Yeah, in the professional pole dancing arena those dufuses shoving $10 bills in the gyrating g-string of the pole dancer are exploited and demeaned.  In the girls-night-out scenario, it fits right in with the other exploitative and demeaning activities we undertake to farewell a girl’s freedom.

Yup, that’s all I’ve got to say about it.  If you have any questions, just ask.  I’ll be forthcoming as always.  If you want to see a video of me pole dancing click here.


  1.   Simon — July 14, 2009 @ 8:14 pm    

    This is an absolute scream !!!

  2.   Kate — July 15, 2009 @ 6:53 pm    

    Ritsa, Miss Campbell and pole dancing are two things I would never EVER have imagined sharing the same sentence. The images running through my mind right now are disturbing… very disturbing.

  3.   technebish — July 15, 2009 @ 7:30 pm    

    The resemblance was rather uncanny actually. Yes, very disturbing…

  4.   Lingerie and G-Strings — January 19, 2010 @ 1:38 pm    

    Absolutely hilarious. Thank you for the insight into the fine, uh…, art of pole dancing. I appreciate the laugh. Thanks.


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